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Meanwhile, let us have a sip of tea. the afternoon glow is brightening in the
bamboos, the fountains are bubbling with delight, the soughing of pines is
heard in our kettle. let us dream of evanescence, and linger in the beautiful
foolishness of things. - The Book of Tea

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Crash

It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. Here, nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something.

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